Angel Of Death
by amber8807
Summary: I'm going to live,and escape from here.I swear I will get revenge,for all the fighters that breathed their last breath in the cage for Decepticon entertainment,Sunstreaker and the Autobots. They call me Angel of Death,they just dont know right they are.OC


**This started out being just a little one-shot, but took root and prompting me to write Relentless. Relentless leads up to this point. Please review and let me know what you think. :)**

The world becomes silent to me in the cage. I know there's sound, I can feel the vibrations thunder through my body, but the noise is absent. I see nothing but the dozens of red optics that surround me, serving as a constant reminder of my merciless spectators.

I avert my gaze to look at the sand under my feet, its dark for sand, turned a black red and copper from the daily bloodshed provided by the games. I grunt at the thought. Games. To them maybe, but to the fighters it is survival. That's why I have never lost a fight; they call me the Angel of Death for that reason. I want to survive and in these games if someone loses 3 fights, they die. That is if there not killed during the first 2 fights. This is the only rule. Anything else goes. And anything is what I'll do to win. Call it unfair, call it dirty. I call it living to see tomorrow.

I tilt my eyes up when I hear the creaky sound of the steel cage door open to let in my opponent. I've seen her before. The 1st time she fought it was against me. She lost. Then I heard she lost the next one too. The girl just isn't a warrior. She's small and thin. Just by looking at her id say she'd be the shy type. Her eyes are always on the ground and she stands awkwardly as if she is not quite certain what to do with her hands. But today she has another look to her. A look I immediately recognize. If she loses this fight I will have to kill her and she is determined not to lose today.

The entrance slams shut behind her and is locked in place. Her eyes narrow at me and she tucks her chin downward. Her hands make a claw like shape at her sides then curl into fists. Her instincts are kicking into overdrive in order to survive but they have done so a little too late, because unfortunately for her, I'm determined as well.  
>Slowly she begins to circle me, reminding me of a young lion attempting to take down a beast. Then she comes at me hard from the right in one move so fast I never even see her fist before it collides with my face and then my ribs.<p>

I feel the heat rising in my limbs and swirling to my body as my impulse to live is awakened making me stronger than before. It's not just adrenalin. No, it's something feral and indomitable. When it first happened I didn't know what it was. Best way I can explain it is it's like an animal caught in a trap. It will do anything to live, even if it means chewing off its own leg.

I watch what she does looking for any weakness, for any indication of an opportunity I can seize. Time seems to slow down as my mind quickens. Her movements become easier to follow. Her eyes move to different points on my body until she decides where she will next attack. I see a small flicker in her eyes when her mind is made up and I prepare to counteract the blow. She's already given me one hell of a beating though. But then I get lucky. She comes at me again, swings and misses when I pivot to my right and out of the way. She stumbles to regain balance when her fist falls short of its intended target. I don't waste any time. I lunge at her with a rapid kick to the stomach that slams her hard against the steel bars and that's it. She doesn't recover before the minicon gives the signal that this fight is over, that her life will soon over due to my hands. Her eyes widen and her mouth tries to muster a scream that her purged lungs don't have the air to produce. She looks at me and holds up her hand, pleading for me to wait, to do anything that won't result in her life coming to an end. Tears run down her dirt smudged cheeks from her eyes begging me for mercy. I watch her for a moment even though I know I shouldn't. Mercy is what we all wish for. And mercy is what we will never be given. Not here.  
>I'm shaken from my thoughts when the cage shakes violently around me followed by the booming voice of my captor.<p>

_"GET ON WITH IT FLESHLING! "_

My eyes lock with his red optics for a brief moment to give him a diminutive nod of acknowledgement.  
>Without wasting any more time, I move in for the kill, crossing the cage in a few sudden steps. She struggles to rise to her feet, but doesn't have time to stand to her full height before I'm grabbing her head and twisting hard until I hear the snap of her small neck. Her struggling body falls limp singling her demise and I release my hold.<br>I never once look at the girl after that, and I'm already walking the other way when I hear her body hit the sand with a thud. The door opens and her body is dragged out by a couple slaves. It's over and done with but my body remains tense and ready to act. My clenched hands shake at my sides and I feel heat in my eyes treating to pour hot tears down my face. My fight with her is over, but a well-known war is rampant inside me. I contain myself here behind a carefully placed facial facade. It can be deadly to show any kind of weakness out here. Other fighters watch, and then there the Con's that own the fighters. Some have lost too many rounds and are looking for any kind of limitation or flaw in order to create a disadvantage to the opponent's fighter.

Squaring my shoulders to stand straighter, my gaze searches the crowd until I see my captor. He sees me too. His vindictive smile broadens when he knows I realize it. My face hardens into pure defiance as I glare back at him. It really is a shame when a fighter goes down. But one of us had too and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me. I'm not going to allow myself to be killed. I'm going to live. I'm going to escape from here. And I swear I will get revenge. For all the fighters that breathed their last breath in the cage for Decepticon entertainment, for Sunstreaker, and for my life and the lives of many others they shattered. Oh, yes. They call me the Angel of Death; they just don't know how right they are…

**A/N: please review let me know what you think. Ideas a welcome as well. :)**


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